


Gotta Get Into You

by creampuffer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Come play, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffer/pseuds/creampuffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaner is messed up and stuck inside his own head during his slump during the Chi-LA series. Jonny is there to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Get Into You

**Author's Note:**

> written for [demotu's](http://demotu.tumblr.com) game 7 [Gay Porn Hard](http://demotu.tumblr.com/post/87540409036/the-game-seven-gay-porn-hard-masterlist)  
> was given this prompt from [lily](http.blueshoesandbluemountains.com) :  
> "I want Kaner getting antsy because he hasn’t scored in awhile, crawling out of his skin, and Jonny getting real tired of it and topping the heck out of him. Perhaps bondage is involved. Probably with Kaner gagged so he can’t get whiny."  
> takes place after game 4 in the Chi-LA series

The mood on the plane ride home is tense, naturally. No one is happy with how they played this game - the whole series really. And no one fucking should. Down 3-1 and this is looking like Detroit all over again…except without the regular season success to buoy them out. 

Jonny looks around the plane, sees Seabs and Duncs huddled close together, deep in discussion. The rest of the D men are in similar positions. They need to get their shit together, be better at protecting Crow.

Sharpy, next to him, lets out a sigh. “I’m worried about your boy, Toes. He doesn’t look so good.”

"Worry about yourself" Jon spits out before he can stop himself. "We need more than just one soft goal from you."

Sharpy lets out a hurt noise and Jon looks at him. Sees the frustration and exhaustion etched on his face. Sharpy looks like he’s aged ten years since the start of the playoff run. But when he punches Jon, hard enough to sting, and says, “I am. Trust me,” Jon knows he doesn’t need to worry about him. 

Kaner, on the other hand…

Jon cranes his head around, sees Kaner at the back of the plane, mouth moving with eyes squeezed shut as he talks to Shaw. Shaw - who looks lost, a little cornered as Kaner runs his mouth. Because Shaw’s just feeling lucky to be back in the game still, throwing his body around like he doesn’t care if he hurts himself again, just as long as they  _win_.

Jon knows the feeling. They all do.

But Kaner.

"You know how Peeks is," Sharpy interrupts. "He’s not good at getting out of his own head."

"Yeah, I know."

"And he won’t listen to anyone but you."

"I  _kno_ _w_ ,” Jon repeats.

"So you’ll help him out, then?" Sharpy’s looking at Kaner now and Jon knows how worried he is. Because Sharpy’s always been protective of Kaner. Almost  _possessive_. 

Just not in the way Kaner needs.

—

With how tired they both are, you’d think the drive home would be silent. But Kaner won’t shut up. He  _can’t_. He’s so stuck inside his own head, crushed under the weight of his own - not to mention most of the city’s - disappointment.

"Dunno what the fuck is wrong with me, Jonny. Why can’t I  _score_?” And his knee won’t stop bouncing, leg setting a nervous rhythm as he sits in the passenger seat.

Jon reaches out a hand to still it, says, “Kaner,” even though he knows it’s not enough for him right now.

Jon drives faster.

—

Kaner doesn’t even fully realize Jon’s coming up with him - too busy blaming himself for everything. He’s in the middle of a self depricating rant of, “supposed to be clutch, fucking showtime out there. More like  _no time._ God, I fucking suck.” 

Jon slams the door closed behind them.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shut up, Kaner," Jon tries.

"Jonny?"

"I said, shut up.  _Patrick._ ”

And Kaner’s mouth goes slack as he stands there, looking at Jon as if he’s the only one in the room.

See, Kaner has always been so focused, so single minded - no matter what critics might say. It’s what makes him such a good player. But it can also hurt Patrick. In times when he’s not scoring, when he’s in a slump, it’s all he can think about. It fucks with his head.

That’s why Jon’s here now. To draw him out. And judging by the way Kaner can’t stop licking his lips, he knows it.

"Bedroom," Jon says.

Kaner scurries off to obey.

—

Jon takes his time joining Kaner. He hangs up his suit jacket, kicks his shoes off and grabs a couple bottles of Gatorade. Past experience tells him Kaner won’t be fit to move once Jon’s done with him. 

When he gets back to the bedroom Kaner is spread out on the bed in just his boxers. It’d be a pretty sight if not for the scowl marring Kaner’s face.

"Turn that shit off." Because of course Kaner is watching post game. And the stuff being said is only fucking with his head more.

"I need to be better, Jonny."

Jon feels it like a slap to the face. How many times has he shouted himself hoarse in the locker room using those words? Kaner takes it too close to heart - the weight of the hockey world on his shoulders.

"The only thing you need to do is relax, calm down." 

He kneels on the bed by Kaner’s side, leans down and kisses his lips - already red and raw from Kaner licking and biting them. Kaner pushes into the kiss on a long exhale but when Jon pulls back to look at him, Kaner shakes his head. “I can’t.”

"You can." And Jon moves to straddle him, to keep Kaner  _there_. To keep Kaner from curling away and hiding like he tries to do in situations like this. “Just be still.”

"Jonny," Kaner whines, twists his body as much as possible with Jon’s full weight pressing him down. His hands are moving, too, scrubbing at his face and scratching at his skin like there are bugs crawling under it.

"Patrick. Stop moving." 

Kaner stills immediately and looks into Jon’s eyes. Then with a soft keening sound Kaner thrusts up against Jon’s ass. He’s hard - of course - so turned on now he doesn’t know what to do. His hands fly to his hair. That godawful mullet Jon will never admit to finding endearing. He’s tugging and pulling, head shaking, so fucking gone already.

"I’ll tie you up if I have to." Kaner groans out Jon’s name. "Is that what you need?"

Kaner doesn’t respond, just grips his own hair tighter and arches hsi back. 

 _I got you_ , Jon thinks but doesn’t say. He leans back enough to tug at the tie still around his neck, pulls it free. His grip is gentle when he pulls Kan’ers hands out of his hair. And when he loops the tie around Kaner’s wrists, it’s tight enough to keep Kaner there but not enough to bite into his skin. 

Kaner’s wrists are too damn fragile, important right now, to fuck with. Maybe in the summer when they’re both restless from no hockey Jon can really stretch him out, keep Kaner tight tight and immobilized…

Now though, Jon cradles both wrists in his hands, sets them softly on the pillow above Kaner’s head. “Keep them there, Patrick.”

Kaner nods, bites his lip. 

"You’re too hard on yourself," he mumbles against Kaner’s lips, then, bites the same spot Kaner had. He moves lower to feel the scratch of beard against his tongue, licks his neck and sucks at Kaner’s adam’s apple. "You’re a great hockey player," he whispers. Because he doesn’t normally say that kind of stuff when he does this.

"No." And that’s why he usually doesn’t. Kaner’s reaction. "I’m not. Not great, not even good enough."

He’s shaking under Jon, working himself up again and suddenly Jon is furious.

"You need to stop doing this," he growls against Kaner’s skin.

"But it’s true. No goals, no assists."

"Patrick -"

"What good am I on the ice if I’m not scoring -"

”- stop.” Jon sits up again, glares down at Kaner. 

But Kaner’s still going, cutting himself down like he’s the only one responsible for their losses.

"That’s fucking enough." And jon gets up off the bed, looms over Kaner.

"Jonny? Don’t go." There’s fear in Kaner’s eyes, like he thinks Jon will actually leave him like this. "I need you," he chokes out.

"What you  _need_  -” and Jon cuts himself off with an impatient huff of air. He looks down the length of Kaner’s body, all the while listening to him beg and plead and that’s not how Kaner’s supposed to be. Not whiny and unsure and lost like this.

"If you can’t shut yourself up I’ll fucking do it for you."

Jon grips Kaner’s boxers and pulls, hard enough that they catch on Kaner’s dick, still hard and wet at the tip. Jesus, Jon’s barely touched him and Kaner’s already so so ready. He’s probably leaked on the inside of his boxers and -

"Fuck, open your mouth." 

Jon balls up the underwear and shoves it in Kaner’s mouth when he obeys, hard enough to still Kaner’s tongue and keep his mouth stretched wide around them.

"Now that you can’t talk back -" he sees Kaner try to swallow around the fabric, wonders if he can taste himself even just a little bit -"you’ll listen. You, Patrick Kane, are amazing. You do things with a puck I’ve never seen anyone else do, that I could only dream of doing." 

Kaner’s making sounds, arms twitching with a desire to move and stop Jon. But he doesn’t move, keeps them there. Good.

"You will get past this. Do you hear me?"

Kaner nods.

"You’re gonna fucking light it up here, keep us in it, help us  _win_ it. Don’t you fucking doubt it. Ever.”

He’s staring at Kaner so he doesn’t miss the slow trickle of tears leaking from the corner of Kaner’s eyes. Jon places a soft kiss at each corner, tastes salt, and tells Kaner, “I’m going to help you get there,” and moves down Kaner’s body.

—

He’s mouthing at Kaner’s cock, lips pursing over the head just barely, to hear the muffled gasps from him. It makes Jon  _ache_  to be inside Kaner, makes him lose all his patience and press a dry finger - just the tip - inside. Kaner’s whole body bows off the bed at it. He loves it like this, just shy of too much, a pain that grounds him and yet lets him soar all the same.

"I wish we had more time, so i could really take you apart. But you need your rest, Patrick."

Kaner makes an approving noise at that, flashes his teeth as he bites down on his underwear and spreads his legs wider.

Jon fits himself between them, finds the lube and slicks up his fingers before pushing two in without warning. Kaner’s dick jerks against his stomach. jon takes it in his mouth and sucks him down.

He works Kaner like that for a few minutes, cock in his mouth and three fingers - plus the very tip of his pinky squeezed in alongside - deep in Kaner’s ass. Kaner’s making choked off noises, eyes screwed shut, and Jon knows he’s ready, been ready.

Jon slowly withdraws his fingers and pulls of Kaner’s cock, one last lick at the head as his tongue dips into the slit.

"Next time," he starts. His voice is gruff from taking Kaner so far down. "I’ll get you on your knees, eat you out until you’re sobbing for it."

Kaner’s trembling as Jon lines up and pushes inside. His legs come up to immediately wrap around Jon’s waist and draw him in closer.

"Fuck, Patrick you’re so -"

He leans down so they’re chest to chest. He can feel the slide of Kaner’s dick against his stomach as he fucks him. “You’re so good, Patrick.”

Kaner’s making cut off sounds that could be Jon’s name or curse words. Fucking, either way. “I got you.” His hands trace up Kaner’s arms until they get to his wrists. He pulls at the tie, just once, and tangles his fingers with kaner’s. “I  _got_ you.”

Kaner squeezes back hard, his whole body going tight, as he comes with a long drawn out moan. Jon feels it wet and sticky between them and bites at Kaner’s jaw. He wants Kaner’s mouth, needs to kiss him, so he pulls back, rips the now sodden fabric from Kaner’s mouth and leans back down to kiss him. He licks at the bow of Patrick’s upper lip, sucks at the plush bottom one, drawing the blood back to the surface.

"Jonny," Kaner’s voice is wrecked, barely a whisper.

"I know, Patrick."

Jon fucks into him with deep, hard thrusts that have Kaner’s entire body moving up the bed. He’s so close -

"Wann feel it," Kaner maanges to say.

"Fuck." 

And Jon pulls out as slowly as he can, strokes himself until he’s coming emptying himself all over Kaner’s balls, the backs of his thighs, his  _hole_ : smears it around with the head of his dick and -

"Oh  _god_ ,” Kaner lets out a hoarse shout.

Because Jon’s fucking into him again, pushing his come inside, making a mess of Kaner as his hands trail through the rest of the come and sweat clinging to his skin, until they’re both shaking, over sensitive.

Jon barely manages to pull out before he collapses on top of Kaner. He doesn’t want to move - completely wrung out and spent. But he knows if he doesn’t move now he’ll fall asleep, Kaner will too, and he still needs to be taken care of. 

Jon rolls away, gets off the bed and stumbles to the bathroom for a warm, wet rag. When he gets back, Kaner’s still spread out, hands above his head.Jon climbs back on and gently wipes Kaner clean, pauses to dip a finger inside him - just the once - to see the way his come leaks out of Kaner’s ass. Kaner makes a small, protesting noise but pulls his legs up anyway. Jon rubs both of his thighs before moving up, wiping at his stomach. 

When he gets to Kaner’s wrists, Jon carefully undoes the knot of his tie and rubs at the thin skin and delicate bones, making sure Kaner’s okay.Which, Kaner’s starting to mumble again underneath Jon, coming back to himself. 

"What’s that?" Jon asks with a kiss to each wrist.

"I said, ‘get off me, fat ass’." Kaner sounds like K _aner_ , the way he should - teasing and sniping at Jon.

He can’t help but smile as he rolls off. Kaner sees.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Kaner rolls his eyes, says, “yeah, okay, thanks,” and kisses Jon before curling up close, shutting his eyes. “Now shut up so I can sleep.”

—

Next game, when Kaner gets four assists, everyone is excited and a little surprised at the sudden resurgence of Mr. Showtime himself.

Jon’s not surprised at all.

—

And the next game, with two goals - one the GWG - no one’s more proud than Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> as a side note: this fic makes me sad in the wake of our loss. i'm still crying about it. *sigh*  
> find me at tumblr [here](http://creampuffsteph.tumblr.com)  
> or on twitter here


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